


Adventures in Exobiology or Phasers in the Forest

by jos_k



Category: Star Trek, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Star Trek, F/F, Profanity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:12:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3792772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jos_k/pseuds/jos_k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Characters from the TV show The 100 set in the Star Trek universe (events take place around the time period of the show ST: Voyager). No characters from the Star Trek universe will cross-over in this fic.<br/>Summary: It is the year 2375 and the USS Ark is five years into a  ten-year deep space exploration mission. Low on deuterium reserves, the Ark must seek out new sources so that they can make the journey back to Earth. Clarke, Octavia, Raven, Bellamy, and Wells are sent to explore an anomalous asteroid field. Pulled into a mysterious planet by a gravimetric distortion, their shuttlecraft crashes, stranding the officers until the Ark finds them. That is, unless the pre-warp civilization, the Trigeda, finds them first.<br/>Away Team Officers:<br/>Clarke Griffin, Lieutenant Junior Grade, Human, Science Officer and Medic<br/>Bellamy Blake, Lieutenant Junior Grade, Human/Klingon, Security Officer<br/>Raven Reyes, Lieutenant, Trill (unjoined), Chief Engineer<br/>Octavia Blake, Ensign, Human/Klingon, Helm<br/>Wells Jaha, Lieutenant, Vulcan, Ops</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crash

“Ship’s Log, Lieutenant Wells Jaha: Stardate 52472.62, Shuttlecraft Van Gogh of the USS Ark, Day 2 of away mission to investigate anomalous asteroid belt for deuterium deposits…”

“Seriously, Wells. Is that really necessary right now?” Octavia’s tone is dripping with irritability and impatience.

Octavia’s faint Klingon features always seem to become more pronounced in this mood and Wells didn't blame her for her attitude. This mission was not given to this particular away team as a reward. It should have been a two-person mission to take sensor readings of the asteroid belt. Instead, Commander Kane ordered all five of them to this mission on a Class 2 shuttle as punishment for last week’s fiasco in Ten-Forward. Five officers stuffed in a cramped space for a week to do a routine sensor sweep and sample collection. _Great_. Wells takes a deep breath and prepares himself for the coming drama.

“God, I feel like we are back in the Academy. I can’t believe Jaha would stoop so low as to pack us all in here for a week just to teach us a lesson.” Clarke rolls her eyes and glares at Wells pointedly when she says the name Jaha.

“Can you blame the Captain, Clarke? After how you, Bellamy, Raven, and Octavia behaved last week? I only got dragged in because no one trusts you four alone.”

Raven chuckles to herself, remembering Bellamy’s naked ass streaking across Ten Forward.

It all started with their usual drinks after their shift. Clarke, Raven, Bellamy, and Octavia all knew each other from Starfleet Academy, though Octavia was a year behind the rest of them. The young officers had a tradition of letting off steam after class or work. When they were together, they truly embodied the motto “Work hard, play hard.”

Last week, though, went beyond their normal poker and drinking nights. First, instead of serving synthehol (synthetic alcohol) like usual, Raven got her hands on some bootleg hooch she caught Monty and Jasper brewing in one of the Jeffries tubes. Synthehol was one thing, but when you got this group drunk on the real thing, something wild was bound to happen. After two shots, Clarke decided that instead of poker, they should be playing strip poker. When Bellamy suggested they move the party to his quarters, Clarke dared him to take two more shots and started dealing the cards. There was no need to persuade Octavia and Raven. Octavia delighted in putting her big brother in embarrassing situations, and Raven would never deny an opportunity to see Clarke get undressed.

As it happens every time their crew had a wild night, Raven found Clarke sleeping naked in her bed the next morning. Raven certainly enjoyed the “benefits” to her friendship with Clarke Griffin.

“The Captain? You mean your father?” Clarke’s tone made it clear that she blamed Wells for their current situation. Clarke only ever spoke to him as if she were accusing him of something. Always accusing - this was their normal interaction.

_Nothing new here_ , thought Wells, _She still blames me for his death_.

“Just because you don’t want to be here, Clarke, doesn't mean we all feel the same.” Raven’s eyes are fixated on her screen while she speaks, “I am really curious about the readings I am getting from this region of the field. Something is interfering with the sensors and I am trying to figure out why. Whatever is causing the interference is also disrupting the transporters.” Raven is almost glowing with excitement. “That means I will have to go on a spacewalk to get samples of the asteroids. Who’s with me?” She asks as if she expects everyone to volunteer.

Clarke takes a break from her foul mood to admire Raven’s spots while she speaks. She knew the Trill’s spot pattern by memory. Clarke loved the way they seemed to come alive when Raven was in a state of eager anticipation.

“I’ll stay inside the shuttle, thank you,” laughs Octavia. “ _qoH tlhIH_ (You are fools),” she mutters in Klingon under her breath. Bellamy looks at her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Listen, this isn’t just a prison sentence for last week. We need to get these samples. The Ark is running low on deuterium and this field could be the answer to our problems. We are five years from the closest Federation Outpost. If we don’t succeed, the Ark could fail.”

Wells is using ‘his serious voice,’ the one that Clarke has hated since they were kids. _He thinks he’s the only one that understands the situation. What a pompous moralizing ass._

Everyone on the Ark knew their predicament. Almost five years into a ten year deep space exploration mission, Chief Engineer Griffin discovered a critical malfunction in the deuterium tanks which resulted in the forced ejection of three quarters of the Ark’s reserve supply. If the Ark wanted to travel at warp speeds, they needed to find deuterium. And soon.

Clarke didn't always have so much disdain for Wells. They used to be very good friends. Though he never hung out with Raven and the Blake siblings like Clarke, Wells was always the one Clarke called when she was stranded or too drunk to get home on her own. Wells was the dependable one. The one who was always there to do the responsible thing. Everything changed, though, when Clarke’s father died on an away mission six months ago. After all, Wells was also on that mission. It wasn’t his fault, but Clarke blamed him by association. _Better that she blames me than her mother_ , thought Wells.

Abby Griffin, Chief Medical officer on the Ark was also on that away mission, but with all of her expertise, she was unable to save her husband. Chief Engineer Jake Griffin fell from a rock precipice on a Class H planet, causing a breach to his spacesuit and resulting in Clarke’s dad suffocating on a barren and angry planet. It was Wells who broke the news of her father’s death to Clarke and it was Wells who was ultimately blamed. Clarke didn't call Wells anymore when she was in trouble.

“Look Wells, just have Octavia fly me close enough to one of those larger asteroids and I’ll get some samples. The readings are jumbled, but I’d bet what’s left of Monty’s moonshine that there’s deuterium in that field.” Raven is already pulling a spacesuit out of storage as she speaks.

“OK, OK. Ensign Blake, you heard Lieutenant Reyes, fly us as close as you can into that field.”

“You got it Boss - I mean Sir.” Octavia activates the impulse engines and heads for the coordinates Raven gave her. Octavia was the best pilot on the Ark, even if she was a bit reckless at times.

As the shuttlecraft enters the asteroid field, it starts to jerk with turbulence, knocking Raven half-dressed back into her seat.

“Hold on, everyone,” gritted Octavia, “ _ghuy'cha_ ' (Damn it)! Something’s wrong with the controls. We are being pulled in by some gravimetric distortion. Raven, is there a planet in this asteroid field?”

“A planet? Clarke? Are you getting any readings?” Raven secures the spacesuit’s helmet under her seat before frantically trying to get Octavia control of the shuttle again. 

"I got nothing. What is causing this interference? I have never seen anything like it.” Clarke forces herself to breathe deeply and keep calm. It did no good dwelling on the fact that they were being pulled by some unknown force into a planet that wasn't showing up on the sensors?

“ _baQa_ ’!”(Fuck Me!*)

Octavia’s cursing is the last thing Clarke hears before the shuttlecraft is swept up by a planet’s gravity, entering its atmosphere and crashing into a massive temperate forest.


	2. Land

It is mid-day. The sun is high, directly above Lincoln of the Trigeda, so that he has to squint to make out the shiny, metallic object hurtling at the ground at speeds Lincoln had never thought possible. The object was larger than anything Lincoln had seen in the sky and it was making a high pitched, alien sound. More curious than alarmed, Lincoln mentally calculates the position in the woods where the strange object crashed and immediately sets out in a fast jog towards the sound of its impact.

Lincoln had heard tales as a child about the _Evil Ones_ from the Sky, who burned their land and killed their ancestors. Who dug up their earth and stole their sacred metal before leaving their planet. Lincoln heard tales of the great marvels of his ancestors, marvels that were now impossible because there was very little metal left and the atmosphere made use of the marvels unpredictable and ineffective. _Could this be the Evil Ones returning from the sky?_ Lincoln increased his pace towards the crash site.

…

“ _QI'yaH_!!! (FUCKING MOTHERFUCKER FUCK*!!)”

Octavia is the first to come to after the crash and she is pinned underneath her burning console. She summons all of her strength as she pushes herself free from the debris, her forehead ridges protruding more deeply into a defiant scowl.

Octavia’s senses return in an instant as she realizes that the shuttlecraft had crashed, it was on fire, and her friends were all unconscious, including her brother Bellamy.

“Bellamy!” Without hesitation, Octavia rushes to Bellamy and starts to pull him out of the wreckage of the shuttlecraft. He is larger than she is, but she is a Klingon warrior – she will not fail her brother.

It takes Lincoln only minutes to reach the crash site. Approaching cautiously at first, he hides himself among the underbrush of the forest.

“Bellamy! Don’t be such a _petaQ_ (useless piece of crap)! You are a Klingon. Get up!”

Lincoln is struck by the sight before him. He sees a woman, wild and fierce, with subtle curved ridges across her powerful forehead. Her skin is lighter than most on his planet, but she has no tattoos or markings on her smooth skin. _You are no Evil One,_ he thinks wistfully. The woman’s red shirt has a large rip down the front and her long dark hair is coming loose from her pony tail. She seems to be yelling at the male she is pulling from the crashed vehicle, but Lincoln cannot make out the foreign language. _Sky People_?

Without thinking, Lincoln approaches the alien woman, careful not to sneak up on her and provoke an attack.

 _"Ai laik Linkon kom Trigeda_ (I am Lincoln of the Tree Clan).” Lincoln places his right palm on his chest as he speaks.

Octavia draws her phaser and spins around at Lincoln’s approach. She is clearly ready for a fight.

 _Chil yu daun_ (Stand down)!”  Lincoln spreads his arms wide and bows slightly, a gesture of peaceful intentions among his people.

Octavia stops and looks curiously at the alien before her. He is humanoid and wearing a light brown leather tunic trimmed with fur and matching heavy cloth pants that are dirty from weeks spent hunting alone in the woods. _Definitely pre-warp,_ she thinks. His head is bald and there is a thick tattooed stripe running along the top down to the base of his neck. He is wearing coal-colored war paint in a diamond pattern over his eyes. There is a ridge similar to a Bajoran’s on his nose. He is very muscular and armed with a bone club and a bow.

 _I really don’t have time for this._ Octavia does not think this alien is a threat. For some reason, the universal translator in her combadge was not working, but she sensed that he did not mean her harm. Besides, she needs to get her friends out of that shuttle fast, so she turns from Lincoln and heads back into the ship.

When Lincoln sees that there are more of Octavia’s people in the burning wreckage, he immediately follows her. Together they pull the rest of the crew out of the strange craft. Five aliens in total, their injuries are a range from mild to severe and they do not appear to be the same alien species.

Once Octavia pulls the last crew member, Wells, out of the shuttlecraft, she goes in one more time to grab as much gear as possible. Along with the Medkit, a couple of tricorders, and emergency rations, Octavia also pulls out a _bat’leth_ ** from the storage area and a couple of extra phasers. _And Bellamy teased me when he saw me pack this baby._ Octavia smirks to herself at the possibility of testing out her skills as she secures the blade to her back with the leather strap her father gave her for this purpose. When she emerges, Lincoln gasps at the weapon strapped to her back. _I guess you have good taste, Mr. Alien Hottie_.

…

When Clarke finally starts to return to consciousness, Lincoln has gone back into the forest. If Octavia read his gestures correctly, it seemed as if he was going to get something and come back. She had to admit, she did hope he came back.

“Ugh. What…? Where…? Octavia…?” Clarke’s eyes open to a brilliant green canopy of forest above her. For a sweet second, Clarke gets lost in the emerald shades before evaluating her present situation. She is lying next to an unconscious Raven, an unconscious Bellamy, and an unconscious Wells further off.

“Holy shit. Octavia, what happened?” Clarke steadies herself and tests out her ability to sit and move her limbs. _No broken bones. My head hurts, but my thinking is clear and I am not nauseous_. Clarke ticks off the symptoms of a concussion mentally before she is satisfied that she can try to stand up and start treating her friends and crewmates.

“Raven!” Clarke rushes to her close friend and occasional lover. Raven’s leg was in a twisted and unnatural condition, but otherwise the Trill seemed unharmed. Still unconscious, though.

“Clarke, please, check on Bellamy. He is really bleeding from a wound on his head. And Wells looks pretty beat up too.” Octavia pulls out the shuttle’s emergency medical kit and hands the medical tricorder to Clarke, who immediately starts scanning her friend. No broken bones, but he had a substantial head wound and a concussion.

“He’s going to need some rest for a few days, O, but I think he will recover.” Clarke does her best to reassure her friend, handing Octavia the dermal regenerator and giving her a quick refresher lesson on its use.

Next, Clarke approaches Wells, whose green blood covered his head and uniform. Clarke was glad that she attended enough of medical school to study Vulcan physiology before dropping out to instead study Exobiology and Botanical Pharmacology. She scans Wells with her tricorder, slumping over as she processes the readings. Massive internal injuries. Internal bleeding. Brain injury. Only Abby and the sickbay of the Ark could offer any hope to Wells. The only problem: the away team wasn’t even due to be in communications range for another three days and Wells had maybe one or two days without treatment. Wells would be dead before the Ark even knew they were missing.

 _Dammit!_ Clarke takes the hypospray out of her kit and loads it with a painkiller and sedative. All she could do for Wells now was keep him comfortable and minimize his suffering.

Finally, Clarke approaches Raven to examine her leg. Broken in several places, Clarke starts to worry for her friend when her scanner picks up nerve and spinal damage. Before Clarke could dwell on it further, though, Raven begins to stir. Clarke goes to the supplies and pulls out a packet of water for her. When Raven starts to moan from the pain in her leg, Clarke gives her a dose of antibiotics and some pain killers.

“Raven,” Clarke tries to get her attention as the Trill wakes, “I need to set your leg. It’s going to hurt.” Raven turns up to look at Clarke and winks. _Oh good. The meds have kicked in._ Clarke is thankful for the sparse but useful shuttle medkit. She only has two more doses of antibiotics, one more of pain killer, and one dose of an antidote for common venoms and poisons.  

“Octavia, help me. Hold her down.”

Octavia advances toward Clarke and Raven, clenching her teeth when she looks down at Raven’s leg. As Octavia stabilizes Raven, Clarke takes hold of Raven’s mangled leg and pulls the bones back into place. Raven screams at the pain but quickly takes deep breaths to steady herself. _It’s not perfect but it will have to do for now_ , Clarke thinks as she uses Octavia’s discarded uniform shirt and some straight metal pieces she found from the shuttlecraft wreckage to fasten together a splint.

Clarke thinks about how she met Raven as she ties the cloth around Raven’s splint and smiles. Raven and Clarke had been dating the same boy, Finn, during their first year at the academy. Neither knew about the other until Raven accidently caught Finn and Clarke out to dinner a few months into Finn and Clarke’s relationship. Raven dumped Clarke’s full glass of water on her head, slapped Finn and stormed out of the restaurant. Apparently, Raven and Finn had been dating since grade school.

Since that incident, both girls left Finn and became good friends, even dating for a while themselves. The two had an undeniable chemistry at one time, but in the course of their study at the Academy and their careers, they simply settled into a playful friendship, with the added bonus of occasional but regular sexual escapades. Both women are passionate about their fields of study and they have spent hours together listening to the other geek out about their new obsessions.

When they were last alone together and undressed in Raven’s quarters, though, Clarke remembered how she had enjoyed creating constellations with her fingers out of Raven’s spots. Before Clarke kissed Raven, she stood in front of her and slowly traced her hands along Raven’s body, making intricate patterns along her sides, starting at Raven’s brow and following the markings all the way down. By the time Clarke reached Raven’s firm ass, she lost interest in the game, focusing only on Raven’s belly, Raven’s breasts, Raven’s lips on her neck.

Clarke wakes up from her musings to check that Raven has settled back to sleep. After gently moving Raven’s hair out of her face, Clarke kisses Raven softly on the forehead and starts towards Octavia.

“How’s Bellamy?” she asks.

“In and out. The others?” Octavia looks worried as she asks.

“Raven should recover, but there may be some permanent damage to her leg. We won’t know until my mom properly examines her. Wells, though,” Clarke’s voice drops to a whisper, “I don’t think he will make it. His injuries are just too severe for me to treat with a hypospray and a dermal regenerator.”

“Oh.” Octavia feels a pang of guilt when she remembers all the times she teased Wells, taking pleasure in testing the patience of a Vulcan.

“Also, we are low on medical supplies. I don’t know what we will do when we run out.”

As the two are speaking, Lincoln returns to the crash site carrying some large leather pelts and sturdy wooden poles on his back.

“Well, hello Mr. Alien Hottie,” Octavia whistles as Lincoln waves a greeting to them.

When Octavia speaks, though, he stops short and looks at her curiously.

“Is there something wrong with him?” Clarke asks as Lincoln looks at Octavia.

“You speak my language?” he asks as he breaks eye contact with Octavia.

“Yes!” Octavia cheers, “The universal translator is working again.”

“Well, my equipment has been shorting out all afternoon, so this may not last O.” Octavia rolls her eyes at Clarke.

“I’m Octavia. What’s your name, handsome?” Octavia approaches Lincoln and helps him unload the supplies on his back.

“I am Lincoln of the Tree Clan.” Octavia had taken off her ripped outer shirt and wore only a sleeveless top with her uniform pants. Lincoln admires her toned muscles and the strong back that bore possibly the most amazing weapon he had ever seen.

“Come, Octavia. We must move your friends away from here. More of my people will come to investigate your crash. I do not know what they would do to you if they find you.” Lincoln begins to arrange the supplies he brought into makeshift stretchers and he gestures for Clarke and Octavia to set one near each of their injured friends. “I have a dwelling place nearby. I am the only one who knows about it so you should be safe there.”

“I don’t really want to move them, but we have our own rules about alien contact. So, we will avoid your people for now.”

Lincoln led Clarke and Octavia to what first looked like a cave entrance grown over with forest underbrush and obscured by overhanging tree branches. As they each dragged one of the crew members’ injured bodies into the dwelling, they realized that this had been a built structure, an old cottage maybe, that had been overrun by the green of the forest and preserved in the darkness beneath. Lincoln directed them to a back room, where they set up a recovery area for their friends.

“I overheard you earlier talking about medicine. We use these to treat wounds. I don’t know if they will work for you, but you may have them.” Lincoln hands Clarke four glass vials, two with a green-brown liquid and two with liquid the color of rust. “Use these for pain,” said Lincoln, pointing to the green vials, “and these to prevent infection,” pointing to the rust liquid.

Clarke runs her tricorder over the remedies. “These will work!” She exclaims. “Is there a way to get more?”

“I make them from the plants that grow in this forest,” he answers, as he rummages through a drawer in his cooking area. “This is what they look like,” he says as he produces two distinct flower cuttings.

Clarke quickly takes out her sketchbook and draws them for later reference. “Good, I will go out to the forest to look for more at first light. Lincoln, could you draw me a map of this region and mark the places to find these plants?” Lincoln takes her pad and pencil and starts to sketch a crude map for Clarke.

“It is getting dark and you should get some rest,” says Octavia as she passes out field rations to Clarke and Lincoln. Lincoln takes the rations suspiciously and hands Clarke and Octavia a mixture of nuts and some dried meat. Everyone eats in silence before settling down to rest.

…

The next morning, Clarke wakes before the others. After checking on Raven, Bellamy, and Wells, she packs a backpack with rations, water, her tricorder, and her sketchpad. In addition to securing her phaser to her belt, Clarke straps a survival knife in its sheath onto her leg. After leaving Octavia a note, Clarke grabs Lincoln’s map and orients herself before heading off into the woods alone.

Clarke left medical school because she did not feel passionate about treating patients. Clarke’s passion is, instead, to discover the properties of alien plant species and the new medicines that could potentially come from them. Really, though, she enjoyed sketching the different plants and animal life from across the galaxy. She often got lost while drawing the life around her on away missions and was known to be late to her rendezvous times on those missions. Every sketch in her book captured a moment in Clarke’s life studying the features of the beautiful diversity that existed in the universe. Clarke is a scientist, but she is also a romantic.

Before Clarke locates the flowers that Lincoln showed her, Clarke hears noises coming from the forest. There is shouting, a very loud animal roar, and the sounds of trees crashing.

Clarke tries her combadge before she rushes to the sound of the noise. _Crap, it’s not working. Again._ _Well, I will have to figure that part out later,_ Clarke reflects while running to the sound of fighting.

She reaches a small clearing to observe several men shouting, “Heda! Heda!” In response to their calls, a tall, beautiful alien woman in an armored chest piece and leggings and carrying a sword jumps at the animal. The animal is larger than the three warriors, standing upright, and covered in thick fur. _Some kind of primate?_

“ _Jomp em op_ (Attack)!” yells the woman holding onto the beast by the back of its neck, who Clarke assumes is the one called ‘Heda.’

 _Wow,_ Clarke thinks to herself, _who is she?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This word technically has no direct English translation. It is the one of the worst, most foul curses in the Klingon language
> 
> **This is a Klingon’s curved bladed weapon
> 
> Next Chapter: Clarke and the Heda have adventures running from an angry gorilla


	3. Pauna

Lexa is very irritated. She prefers to hunt these woods alone, but sacrifices had to be made when one wore the mark of _Heda_ *. Lexa instinctively directs her thoughts to the pattern of tattoos along her arms and back, marking her as _Heda kom Trigeda_ (Commander of the Tree Clan).

Yesterday, her duty was to initiate a small group of young warriors into her personal guard. Indra had done well in preparing these recruits, all tributes of the sons and daughters from the head families of the clans of her newest alliances. _Plans don’t last very long in battle,_ thinks Lexa wryly.

Lexa is not the kind of Commander that leads from the back of the battlefield. She requires warriors that will follow her into blood and danger. Warriors that will die for her if she asked. For this reason, Lexa did not come here to test her warriors’ skill, as Indra had already measured their strength. Lexa was here to test their loyalty and willingness to sacrifice. This is why she told them two days ago that only one of them would be chosen. She wanted to weed out any who would put their personal ambition above their duty to the clan.

Lexa and her four recruits were originally on their way to raid a small camp of reapers, former Trigeda who had been driven mad by the poisonous bite of the most feared creature in the woods, the _pauna_ **. While tracking the band of reapers, however, Lexa and her group spotted the shuttle crash across the other side of the forest. Lexa could not afford the delay by returning to Indra’s village, Tondc, to gather more warriors, so she led her aspiring guard into the deep woods to investigate the streak of metal and fire that crashed into her territory. That was yesterday, and now Lexa finds herself annoyed as they make their way to the crash site that she has to share this favored part of the woods with newcomers to her clan. Not even Indra or Gustus hunted with her when she came here.

 _“Heda!”_ The warrior’s shout brings Lexa out of her thoughts as the hunting party enters a small clearing. Before the young warrior from the Eastern Sea Clan could utter any more, however, a beast crashes down from the trees and lands on top of him, tearing his right arm off of his body and flinging it away. It was the _pauna_.

Lexa’s reflexes take over as she unsheathes her sword and sprints towards the _pauna_ , which has its back to her while it tears at her recruit, long venomous teeth gnashing at his body. She jumps on its back, hoping to distract it while the other warriors attack, and doing her best to avoid its poisonous bite.

“ _Jomp em op_ (Attack),” yells Lexa from the back of the _pauna_ , grabbing on to its thick, coarse fur armor and trying not to get thrown off.

Before her warriors have time to react, Lexa sees an orange-red beam of light hitting the _pauna_ square in the chest. The beast staggers backward and Lexa jumps free before it smashes into a tree, dazed from the hit. Lexa takes her opportunity quickly, plunging her sword deep into the beast’s chest, penetrating its tough hide.

Clarke watches the alien warrior, the one the others called ‘Heda,’ with interest. She is a few inches taller than Clarke, with tan skin and dark, curly long hair, which she wore down and partially braided to keep out of her face. Buckled onto her heavy clothe pants and tunic are shoulder, chest, leg, and arm guards made of different kinds of scrap metal. _This woman is fierce_. Clarke saw no sign of hesitation or fear when the warrior leapt onto that beast. Even now, faced with an unknown situation, she carried herself with stoic confidence.

Clarke gets so lost in observing Lexa finish off the pauna that she forgets to conceal herself and the small group is now turning its attention to her edge of the clearing.

Silently scolding herself about the Prime Directive, Clarke tries to figure out how she is going to get out of this ethically compromising situation, when the alien Heda looks directly at her from her position above the slain beast. _Crap_ , curses Clarke silently. Jaha was going to be furious with her, in that cold rational Vulcan way, not to mention her mother Abby. It was bad enough that the away team had exposed Lincoln to their technology, and now this. _Why do I always run in the direction of trouble?_ , Clarke groans rhetorically to herself.

When Lexa finally faces Clarke, Clarke is staring right back at her. When their eyes lock, a shiver runs down Lexa’s spine and goosebumps raise the hairs on the back of her neck. _Is she from the sky?_ Lexa evaluates the situation as she stares into the alien’s blue eyes from her vantage point in the clearing. The alien with golden hair and strange weapons could not be an Evil One. The legends were clear. Evils Ones killed her people without exception. This alien had helped them. Lexa breaks herself from Clarke’s gaze when she hears a flock of birds break from the forest’s canopy not far away, followed by the sound of movement on the ground and a loud roar. The _pauna’s_ mate had found them.

 _“Masta ai op!_ (Follow me!),” Lexa yells as she rushes from the crashing sounds and towards Clarke’s position.

Clarke moves to change the setting on her phaser when it shorts out with an annoying buzz. Clarke pulls her knife from its sheathe at her leg, holding her phaser with her left hand. _I can do this._ Clarke readies herself as another beast tears into the clearing and throws an alien warrior like a ragdoll into the trunk of a tree.

Lexa veers around to face it when her remaining recruit pushes her back and throws himself at the _pauna_. Lexa readies herself to follow him when her knees become suddenly weak and she starts to collapse. Seeing this, Clarke rushes to Lexa and catches her before she hits the ground. Acting as a crutch, Clarke leads Lexa into the woods, Lexa pointing the way to shelter. Behind them, they hear the screams of Lexa’s recruits.

 _“Yu gonplei ste odon._ (Your fight is over),” Lexa whispers to herself. Every one of the recruits had proven themselves with honor.

Lexa leads them to the hollowed out shell of what was once an office complex, overrun by the vegetation of the forest. Behind a drapery of vines and low hanging ferns, Lexa brings Clarke to a door, the second _pauna_ chasing them close behind. As Clarke opens the door and begins to pull Lexa through, the _pauna_ leaps from its position and grabs a hold of Lexa’s shoulder and torso with its massive claws.

“Leave me,” yells Lexa, as Clarke is trying to pull her into the doorway, away from the grasp of the beast.

“No way,” answers Clarke, aiming her phaser at the pauna. _Work!_ Clarke flips the switch on the phaser to maximum stun and fires a short burst at the creature before it shorts out again. The _pauna_ staggers backwards and Clarke pulls Lexa inside, slamming the door shut with a kick.

When Clarke turns to orient herself to her surroundings, she finds herself in a hallway that ends in what looks like stairs going down into a floor below ground.

“This way,” winces Lexa as she staggers forward, grasping her right shoulder with her left hand.

“Wait. Let me look at your wounds.” Clarke unstraps her pack and digs around for her tricorder. “And, well, my name is Clarke. What should I call you?” 

“Lexa,” she grunts as she sits against a decaying wall, allowing Clarke to examine her. Lexa does not understand for the life of her why she trusts this strange alien, so she chalks it up to the _pauna’s_ poisonous bite. _I was bitten_. Lexa accepts her fate grimly.

Clarke rips strips of cloth from her ragged uniform and begins to tie pieces around Lexa’s shoulder wound. Clarke detected the _pauna’s_ poison in Lexa’s blood, so she knows that she has to get Lexa to Lincoln’s camp as soon as possible to get to the anti-venom in her medical kit.

“Is there another way out of here?” asks Clarke, thankful that the universal translator was finally working again. _I better not press my luck_ , thinks Clarke.

“Follow the path down and the tunnel will lead you out into the forest. Leave me here, Clarke. It is too late for me.”

Clarke pulls out Lincoln’s map and shows it to Lexa. “Where does the tunnel exit?” Lexa points to a spot not far from Lincoln’s camp before she starts to lose consciousness.

“Stay awake, Lexa. I’m not ready to give up on you yet.”

Clarke steadies Lexa against her as she makes her way along the hallway and down the darkened stairwell, lit only by the faint glow of luminescent fungi. Clarke briefly considers coming back to take sensor readings of the glowing plant as she drags Lexa out of the tunnel.

 _Keep it together, Griffin_ , she scolds herself gently. After all, here she was on a beautiful pre-warp planet, with a beautiful alien woman under her arm.

 _What could possibly go wrong,_ wonders Clarke grimly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Commander  
> **large gorilla-like beast
> 
> Next Chapter: Where Clarke cures Lexa and Lexa goes undercover to investigate the Sky People


	4. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my wife for her birthday. Love you, babe.

“You should have left me behind,” Lexa’s voice is barely a whisper as Clarke half-drags her along the basement corridor of a decayed underground structure overgrown with roots and glowing fungi. “Now two will die here instead of one.” Lexa listens to the pounding of the _pauna,_ who did not take long to wake from Clarke’s last hit, and silently calculates how long it will take for it to smash through the metal door. 

“I’m still new to your culture, but when someone saves your life, my people say ‘thank you.’” Clarke really does try her best to keep the edge out of her voice, but between carrying Lexa’s almost unconscious body through an underground tunnel and being chased by the native wildlife, Clarke has had enough of this alien’s apparent desire to share in her friends’ fate.

“Griffin to Ensign Blake. Come in.” Clarke’s combadge is definitely working, but something in this tunnel is preventing her signal from getting out. _I guess we do this the hard way_ , thinks Clarke as she grits her teeth and pushes forward, Lexa hanging limply at her side.

After an eternity of dragging Lexa while listening to her fever-induced ramblings about making decisions with your head and not your heart and unintelligible cries about someone named Costia, Clarke finally reaches the end of the tunnel and emerges into daylight. The sound of the _pauna_ ’s pounding still audible, echoing through the underground passageway.

“…Blake. Clarke do you read me?” Clarke’s combadge signal is still slightly static, but the signal is clear enough. 

“Octavia! So nice to hear your voice!”

“Clarke, _qaStaH nuq jay_ ' (what the hell is happening?)” Octavia is almost shouting the words into her combadge. 

“ _bljatlh ‘e’ ylmev_ (Shut up), Octavia and listen!” Clarke knows just enough Klingon to deal with Octavia when her friend was feeling especially belligerent.

“Pay attention, Blake. I am less than a kilometer southwest from Lincoln’s camp. I am heading your way with an injured woman. She is poisoned and I need to get her to my medkit. How are the others?”

“Lincoln is out gathering more of your special plants or whatever. Bellamy is still in and out, but Raven is starting to wake up. Wells looks really bad.” Octavia’s voice drops low when she mentions Wells. 

Clarke pushes the image of her dying childhood friend out of her mind for her more immediate concerns. 

“I could really use your help, O. And bring your _bat’leth_. Griffin, out.” 

“On my way, Clarke,” answers Octavia with a maniacal grin. _Battle._  

Octavia checks on her brother and the others before following Clarke’s signal with her tricorder.

“I’ll be right back with Clarke,” whispers Octavia into Raven’s ear. As Octavia leaves Lincoln’s camp, she sees him approach carrying a basket filled with plants and flowers.

“Trouble,” she says as she signals for him to follow. The look in Octavia’s eyes both frightens and excites him as she sets out in a fast jog into the woods, tricorder leading the way. Lincoln drops his basket and nods.

Several minutes pass as Clarke slowly makes her way towards Lincoln’s camp, desperately trying to keep Lexa awake. Clarke is impressed that the alien warrior is still conscious at all considering her wounds and the rapid pace the _pauna’s_ poison is spreading through her body. _This woman should already be dead_ , thinks Clarke with admiration. Despite the fact that Lexa had actually tried to command Clarke to sacrifice her to the creature chasing them, her will to live was the strongest Clarke had ever seen.

Suddenly, Clarke hears movement in the woods behind her. Before she can react, she sees Octavia in front of her, rushing to Clarke’s position, _bat’leth_ out in her right hand. Clarke pulls herself and Lexa to the ground and out of Octavia’s way as Octavia leaps towards the _pauna_ as it reaches their location. With one smooth motion, Octavia blocks the _pauna’s_ sharp claws from thrashing at her torso with the horizontal edge of the _bat’leth_ and counters by swinging the right tip of the blade overhead with both hands. She punctures the _pauna’s_ soft neck with its outer point _,_ dragging the curved blade downward and slicing through its hide with ease.

Lincoln watches Octavia silently as she defeats the _pauna_ , eyes wide with admiration. It isn’t until the danger is over that Lincoln notices Lexa sitting on the ground slumped over Clarke and fighting to stay awake.

“Heda?” Lincoln cannot believe his eyes. The leader of his people is being held up by the alien Clarke and appears severely injured.

When Lexa hears her formal title she regains some of her alertness and turns to Lincoln. Her commanding glare conveys the silent order. Lincoln knows his Commander’s reputation for clever ruses so Lincoln understands that he must conceal her identity while they are among these alien sky people. Lincoln gives a slight nod as Lexa slips back into the delirium caused by the _pauna’s_ bite.

“Great timing, O! Thanks,” Clarke says as she grins with appreciation at her friend.

Octavia is breathing heavily from the run in the woods and the excitement of battle, her eyes shining with satisfaction.

“Always happy to save your ass in a fight, Griffin,” she smirks as she cleans the _bat’leth_ with a scrap of her discarded uniform and straps it to her back.

Lincoln approaches Lexa and relieves Clarke as Lexa’s crutch and the small group returns together back to Lincoln’s dwelling.

“Hurry, lay her down here,” Clarke instructs Lincoln, pointing to an empty corner of the room as they enter the makeshift sickbay. Raven and Bellamy stir slightly as Clarke enters Lincoln’s back room. Clarke hurries to the table where the shuttle’s medical kit sat and pulls out the anti-venom, loading it into the hypospray.

“I hope this works,” breathes Clarke as she administers the medicine into Lexa’s neck.

Lexa inhales deeply in a short breathe before settling into a light sleep. Clarke scans the Trigeda woman with concern then picks up the dermal regenerator, methodically running the device over Lexa’s wounds. _There goes the Prime Directive_ , thinks Clarke. _It’s not like I could have just let her die_.

Clarke gently unbuckles Lexa’s armor to reveal a ripped sleeveless tunic. Strands of Lexa’s hair pass through Clarke’s fingers as she runs the regenerator over Lexa’s shoulder wound, Clarke lingering just slightly as her fingers lightly brush over Lexa’s skin. The Trigeda had patterns of raised bumps in the shape of spirals and circles speckled down her arms, with a series of tribal tattoos interlacing the natural patterns in her skin. Clarke couldn’t help but notice that one of the tattoos bore a striking resemblance to one of the medicinal plants Lincoln had shown her yesterday.

“So, we've been here a day and you are already picking up local women?” Raven’s voice is weak, but alert.

“Raven!” Clarke leaves Lexa to check on her friend, tricorder ready.

“Get that thing out of my face, Griffin,” grumbles Raven as she tries to bat Clarke’s scanning hand away from her.

“Hah! You may be the ranking officer, Raven, but as the ranking medical officer, I order you to stop fighting me and let me take care of you.” Clarke looks at Raven with mock sternness, doing her best to channel her mother’s ‘I know best’ stare.

 _There she goes, taking charge, as usual,_ Raven laughs silently to herself. Even though every single one of their small group had the capacity to be a great leader, it was usually Clarke who took charge during tricky situations. Clarke was the one that spoke for everyone, as she was their quickest and most cunning speaker. Clarke was the public face, the politician.

Raven remembers that time they all got caught sneaking into the shuttle hanger by a visiting Vice-Admiral during their second year of the Academy. Clarke not only convinced the officer that their motives were responsible and studious (as opposed to their planned joy ride), but they also later learned that said Vice-Admiral had put a note of commendation in each of their files for their “great diligence and personal embodiment of Starfleet’s highest ideals.” Clarke still sometimes pulled out that commendation and read it aloud to the group when she and Bellamy got into it over who was the better officer.

“Seriously, Raven, it’s nice to have you back. How are you feeling?” Clarke’s concern is evident.

“I’m trying not to think about it. Don’t worry, I can handle the pain,” Raven says as cavalierly as possible so as not to worry her friend. Clarke gives her some of Lincoln’s medicine before she reclines back into her mat to rest.

Clarke gives Raven a concerned look before turning her attention to Bellamy, as he tosses lightly in his sleep. Convinced that he is stable, she turns to Wells. Wells was still on his mat. Deathly still. Clarke scans him, horrified at the thought of how much pain her friend must be enduring. Clarke recognizes the Vulcan’s steady breathing as a sign of his efforts to maintain a calm meditative state. Staring at her friend, Clarke allows all of the bitterness she had directed towards him dissipate and a wave of guilt and grief passes over her. She knew that Wells was not responsible for her father’s death. She just needed someone to blame and he gave her that gift.

As Clarke examines Wells, Lexa begins to return to consciousness. Instead of alerting the aliens of her revived state, she listens to the activity around her and watches Clarke silently, assessing the situation coolly.

“Clarke.” Wells’s eyes open with deliberation. It is clear to Clarke that he is using every ounce of self-control to speak calmly and steadily though his pain.

“I am dying.” The statement is bald of emotion.

“Wells.” Clarke whispers his name, the tears gathering along her lower eyelids.

“You wanted to protect me. So, you let me hate you. How can you forgive me?" Clarke’s voice is breaking with emotion.

“It is already done,” Wells states plainly. Their eyes lock for a moment as the strength of their bond courses between them.

“How long until we establish communication with the Ark?” Wells asks the question out of sheer formality.

“We aren't due to be in communication range for a couple more days,” Clarke breathes.

“Then you know what you must do, Clarke. This is my last request of you.” Wells looks at her rationally.

Clarke holds back her grief and picks up her survival knife. Lexa watches her, captivated by the unfolding situation, her heart stirring to a distant memory.

Clarke approaches Wells with the knife. He reached for her one final time and Clarke bows her head to him as he places his fingers in position at the sides of her face in order to initiate the mind meld. A flash of memory and feeling passes before her as Wells uses the last of his life force to communicate to Clarke the regions of his heart he kept locked away with Vulcan discipline. As his strength begins to fail him, Wells releases his grip on Clarke and nods.

Clarke inserts the knife into his throat precisely, cutting the artery quickly. It takes only seconds for Wells to take his last breath.

Lexa watches as Clarke kills her oldest friend, amazed at the compassionate strength of Clarke’s merciful heart. Lexa’s own heart begins to beat into her ears loudly, but Lexa convinces herself that she is merely experiencing the lingering effects of the _pauna’s_ poison.

_Just who are you, Clarke of the Sky People?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Where Lexa stares at Clarke's lips, trying to convince herself that she is just on a mission to gather information


	5. Ruse

“It’s not that Vulcan’s don’t feel,” Clarke remembers her mother’s words from years ago, when Clarke and Wells were still teenagers, a few years before the Academy. “They feel very deeply, so they must control their emotions or risk descending into their dark ages again.”

Clarke had come to Abby frustrated with Wells. He had just undergone his first _pon farr_ *, escaping the monks overseeing his care and rushing to Clarke to declare his eternal love. They had been friends for so long, so Clarke was taken aback by his pronouncements and didn’t respond immediately. He left her in a huff (Wells? In a huff?), and when she saw him again a week later, he was the same old Wells. There was no trace of the passion he had exhibited the week before. Same logical, infuriating Wells. 

Clarke’s memories roll over in her mind as she sits numbly, knife still in her bloody hand. She starts to weep, shoulders slumped and head bowed. She sits there for several minutes before she feels a presence behind her. One hand touches her left shoulder gently, while the other carefully removes the knife from Clarke’s limp grasp.

Lexa cleans the hunting knife, which is stained with Wells’s green blood, with a discarded rag before placing it on a table. She then returns to Clarke, who is still sitting next to Wells’s dead body. Seeing Clarke’s grief evokes memories in Lexa that she would rather leave buried. Taking a seat beside Clarke, Lexa offers no words of comfort. She simply sits silently, concealing her own struggle in a façade of stern calm.

After a while, Clarke’s grief begins to subside. Lexa starts to get up to return to her mat, but Clarke gently stops her. She turns to Lexa, eyes bright blue from her tears.

“Thank you,” she says to Lexa, looking directly into Lexa’s green eyes. For a brief second, Lexa’s self-control melts as her own vulnerability shines through in their gaze. Lexa nods before turning away to leave Clarke’s side. 

“Clarke…” Octavia enters the back room, stopping when she sees Wells. “Oh, Clarke,” she says as she rushes to her friend’s side. Octavia embraces Clarke in a tender bear hug. 

Clarke quickly composes herself, pushing aside her heartache. She wipes her eyes with her sleeve and clears her throat. 

“We should move his body. Wells,” Clarke pauses to control the next upwell of emotion. “We should take Wells outside,” Clarke whispers hoarsely.

“Let me take care of it, Clarke,” says Octavia, fighting to hold down her own tears, sudden rage welling in her chest. Such loss made Octavia angry. _I need to find something to fight_ , she thinks as she grinds her teeth.

About an hour later, Clarke, Octavia, and Raven stand next to Wells’s grave, set like a cairn above the earth. Raven props herself up with a homemade crutch, half leaning on Clarke both for comfort and support.  Clarke’s face is stony, as silent tears fall in a continuous stream down her face. 

Lincoln and Lexa linger behind the rest, giving the people from the sky their space to mourn their fallen friend. 

“Heda,” Lincoln whispers to his leader. 

Lexa gives him a sharp glare. The gesture is not lost on Lincoln and he quickly closes his mouth, worry evident on his face. 

“We will talk later,” Lexa says as she turns her gaze back to Clarke. 

After a while, Octavia takes Raven back to the makeshift sickbay to rest, Lincoln following closely behind. When Octavia emerges again, she is carrying her _bat’leth_ and stomping single-mindedly toward the woods, Lincoln trailing her.

“I lost someone special to me too,” says Lexa as she approaches Clarke to stand by her side. “Her name was Costia.” Lexa’s voice wavers slightly when she speaks the name. “She was captured by a neighboring Clan, whose leader believed she knew our secrets.” Lexa’s shoulders slump ever so slightly, lost in her memory. “They were going to torture her, kill her, and cut off her head. I couldn’t let that happen.” Lexa struggles to find the words. “I snuck outside their camp and shot an arrow through her heart.”

Clarke turns to face Lexa and finds her own sorrow mirrored back to her in Lexa’s green eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” Clarke’s gaze does not leave Lexa. 

“I thought I’d never get over the pain, but I did.” Lexa clenches her jaw, trying to regain her composure. 

“”How?” 

“By recognizing it for what it is…weakness.” Lexa turns to face the grave.

“What is? Love?”

Lexa nods, facing Clarke once again. 

“So you just stopped caring? About everyone?” 

Lexa nods again, swallowing hard.

“I couldn’t do that,” says Clarke firmly, piercing Lexa with her gaze.

“Then the pain will never go away,” says Lexa as she turns uncomfortably from Clarke, her careful unfeeling mask reemerging once again on her features as she walks back to Lincoln’s dwelling.

 

***

 

“Heda,” Lincoln is whispering as he approaches Lexa with a plate of cooked meat. It is dusk and Lincoln had returned with Octavia hours earlier dragging the carcass of a large coal black feline creature. Octavia’s face was red with the creature’s blood, but her eyes seemed more settled and less murderous.

“You must call me Lexa,” she says as she turns to face him.

The aliens are gathered around the fire eating the results of Octavia’s hunt, and Lexa is sitting on a fallen tree trunk near the entrance to Lincoln’s house observing Clarke. _Clarke must be the leader, so I should watch her more closely than the rest_ , Lexa thinks to herself, trying to give herself an excuse to stare at Clarke while she talks to her alien companions.

“I don’t think these aliens mean us harm, Hed-, um Lexa,” stutters Lincoln looking anxiously between Lexa and Octavia. “I think they are just lost.”

“I will decide if they are a danger to our Clan, Lincoln.” Lexa glares squarely at Lincoln, holding his gaze with a silent command. Lincoln knows his Commander could slit his throat without anyone noticing, even in her weakened condition.

“Yes, Lexa,” Lincoln bows his head in obedience and returns to the campfire.

 

***

 

Clarke, Raven, and Octavia are sitting around Lincoln’s fire silently eating while Lincoln speaks to Lexa. 

“She’s just staring at you, Clarke. What the hell, Griffin? I thought Bellamy was the space ho.” Raven teases Clarke when she is worried about her, and this definitely qualified as worry. Clarke has just lost her oldest friend, a friend who Clarke had always had unresolved and complicated feelings towards.

Raven interrupts Clarke’s reverie, memories of Wells streaming at a tangent from one to the other.

“What?” Clarke’s dreamy eyes turn to Raven, who is unconsciously shifting her weight off of her injured side as she looks at Clarke with apprehension.

Raven gives a slight side glance and nod towards Lexa, who is speaking quietly with Lincoln.

When Clarke catches Lexa looking her way she blushes, the light from the fire deepening the pink on her face.

Raven looks at Clarke incredulously.

“Wait a minute,” Raven’s voice is tinged with shock. “You mean…wait…is there something actually going on between you two, Griffin?” Raven looks like she might break down with laughter at any minute.

“Stop it, Raven. Nothing is going on,” Clarke’s blush starts to feel warm on her face. “She was being attacked in the woods. She was hurt. I saved her. That’s all.” Clarke turns back to stare at the fire, uncomfortable with Raven’s line of questioning. Raven, sensing that the conversation is over, returns to her dinner.

After a few minutes looking at the fire, Clarke hears Raven start to move from her seat, a cry of pain escaping her lips.

“Here, let me help you.” Clarke stabilizes Raven while she stands holding onto her crutch with her other arm.

“Abby can fix this, right?” Raven grimaces out the words.

“I hope so, Raven,” answers Clarke in the most confident tone she can manage, at the same time fearing that Raven may have to live with her injury for the rest of her life.

As Raven stubbornly hobbles back to the sickbay by herself, Lincoln returns to the campfire. When Octavia sees him, she puts her plate down, picks up her _bat’leth_ and gestures for him to follow as she heads into the darkening woods. She knows still has some grief to work out.

Finding she is suddenly alone, Clarke cleans up the site from the mess of dinner.

“Are you done eating?” Clarke approaches Lexa and gestures to her empty plate sitting beside her on the log.

“Yes,” Lexa nods, doing her best not to look at Clarke directly.

Clarke picks up the plate and starts to turn around to return it with the others before changing her mind and sitting down beside Lexa instead.

“How are your injuries?” Clarke starts to undo Lexa’s bandages to examine her. Lexa, surprised by Clarke’s sudden touch, flinches back slightly while her muscles tense.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Clarke says meekly. “I just really should check you out…I mean, check your injuries out and change your bandages one more time.” Clarke clears her throat and tries to sound professional. “You don’t want to get an infection.”

Lexa is strangely satisfied by Clarke’s sudden awkwardness and she nods in assent.

As Clarke undresses her bandages, Lexa forgets she is the Commander. Instead, she feels like just an ordinary person sitting next to a beautiful alien woman. Lexa has never felt so at ease with anyone.

“You saved my life,” Lexa states as she turns to look at Clarke, who is re-wrapping her shoulder with fresh strips of cloth from her pocket. “I should be dead, or worse. Your healing power, it’s like nothing I have ever seen before.” Lexa actually smiles openly in wonder, forgetting for a moment that she is here to spy on these aliens.

“You should meet my mother,” Clarke turns up to face Lexa, struck by the smile on her lips. “She is the real healer,” she mumbles as she turns back to her work, trying to hide the flush on her face. _Prime Directive. Prime Directive. Prime Directive._ Clarke starts desperately chanting the Federation’s rule of non-interference in her head. _Get it together, Griffin._

“Well, hey there, Princess. Who’s your beautiful friend?”

“Bellamy!” Clarke jumps to her feet, a look of pure joy on her face as she rushes to her friend standing in Lincoln’s doorway.

After wrapping him in a warm hug, she starts to prod at his injuries, both relieved and disappointed at the interruption. The sight of Clarke embracing Bellamy puts a sullen scowl on Lexa’s face, as she returns to her reality as the Commander.

“So, Gorgeous, come here often,” Bellamy says as he winks at Lexa.

Clarke sighs. Bellamy always has her back and she would rescue him to the ends of the universe if required, but he was a terrible wingman. It is true, part of Clarke has always been jealous at Bellamy’s ability to charm the pants off of every species of woman or man in the galaxy. When the two of them ever went out on the town together, though, he always went home with a beautiful stranger, while Clarke was always left to pay the bill. This is why she will never ever vacation on Riza** with him again. 

“That’s Lexa,” says Clarke as she rolls her eyes at Bellamy with irritation. “I saved her from an alien gorilla.”

“Well, I guess Princesses also rescue the damsel in distress,” Bellamy smirks as he looks Lexa over with appraising eyes.

“OK, that’s enough out of you. Let’s go inside. I need to check you with my tricorder. You might still be experiencing the effects of your concussion.” Clarke ushers Bellamy back inside with impatience as she gives a shy look to Lexa.

Once she is alone, Lexa walks to the dwindling campfire. After feeding it some more logs, Lexa glances around her to confirm that the others are still inside. Taking a small pouch from her pocket, she throws it into the fire. The smoke turns yellow for a moment before turning back to normal.

Steeling herself, Lexa reminds herself of her responsibility as protector of her people. By now, Indra and Gustus should be patrolling the woods, looking for her signal.

 _It won’t be long now_ , thinks Lexa as she waits for her people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Pon farr is a Vulcan’s time of mating. It happens every seven years, starting in early adulthood. The Vulcan must mate, perform a special ritual, or deeply meditate. The Vulcan has eight days to satisfy their pon farr needs or they will die. They also get a little crazy and emotional during this period of time.
> 
> **Riza is a popular vacation spot. It is a “pleasure planet” whose local culture is very sex-positive.
> 
> Next Chapter: Where the away team is captured and Clarke meets Lexa's people


	6. Capture

Lincoln smells the yellow signal smoke before he sees it, dark mustard plumes rising against the fading light of late sunset. He scans the woods around him for movement. _This could be bad. Octavia will not go down without a fight,_ he thinks as he reaches into his pouch for the vial. Even as his fondness towards the powerful alien was growing, he knows her best chance for survival among his people was in his custody.

Octavia was hiding in the brush a few feet in front of him, stalking a large rodent-like creature, _bat’leth_ out and ready. Her back is turned away from Lincoln, focus hungrily intent upon the beast.

_They are here._ Hearing the signal, Lincoln dips two darts from his belt into the liquid in the vial and throws them in succession at the back of Octavia’s neck.

“Wha..?” Octavia turns in an angry flash before slumping to the ground.

“ _Em klir! Chil yu daun!_ (All clear! Stand down!)” Lincoln shouts as he checks Octavia’s pulse.

“ _Linkon. Teik ai gon heda_ (Lincoln. Take me to the Commander) _,_ ” commands Indra as she emerges from the trees.

“ _Masta ai op_ (Follow me),” Lincoln responds, glancing at Octavia from the corner of his eyes while warriors from his village bind her hands and feet.

***

Clarke is smiling as she leaves Lincoln’s dwelling. Watching while Raven re-enacts Clarke and Lexa’s adventure with the _pauna_ as Bellamy eggs her on, Clarke begins to overcome the debilitating grief threatening to overwhelm her. She knows the performance is mostly for her own benefit. Raven was always trying to cheer Clarke up like that and unlike Octavia, Bellamy’s reaction to loss involved teasing laughter with friends, so he was also happy to be Raven’s audience.

Lexa is standing by the fire and staring into its crackling embers when Clarke emerges from the entryway. Lexa’s heart drops when she sees Clarke’s carefree smile, lit by a dimming orange sunset and the flicker of torches. When Clarke finds Lexa’s eyes, intense and penetrating, she freezes in place. They stare at each other for a moment, almost in a trance, while the remaining shreds of Clarke’s professional resolve melt away as warmth spreads from her chest into hot fire below. Clarke’s eyes are now moving between Lexa’s eyes and her lips.

_So much for the Prime Directive_ , Clarke sighs as she collects herself and begins to walk towards Lexa, her striking beauty illuminated by the campfire. Clarke’s heart starts to beat faster and her mouth begins to water.

Halfway to Lexa, Clarke collapses as two small darts pierce her neck. Lexa catches her breath, suddenly remembering the unfolding situation. _I’m sorry Clarke_ , thinks Lexa grimly to herself, the burden of her command pulling her out of the dreamlike state. _The duty to my people must come first_ , she reminds herself as she contains the urge to crouch down to Clarke’s unconscious body to check that her heart still beats.

Lexa is mentally scolding herself when Indra’s group creeps towards the entrance to Lincoln’s dwelling. When Indra catches Lexa’s glowering eyes, Lexa gives Indra the gesture for “two” and “injured” in the hand signs the Tree Clan uses for ambush. Indra quietly leads her warriors inside. Lexa hears Raven’s sharp cry of surprise before Indra reemerges, sliding her hollowed out bone blow gun back into place on her belt.

“ _Heda_ ,” says Indra with a slight bow as she approaches Lexa. Another warrior removes a horn from her belt and blows a long low-pitched note into the sky. Moments later, more warriors arrive from the darkening woods, immediately binding the Federation crew with heavy rope and slinging them over muscular horse-like creatures.

Lexa nods regally towards Indra as a very large and bearded Trigeda warrior, Gustus, wraps a fitted cloak around her. Still fighting the lingering feelings of watching Clarke slump to the ground as she approached Lexa with that calm, intense purpose, Lexa could not summon the strength to speak. She tries to shake herself out of it, clench her teeth, anything to regain her composure.

Her bodyguard Gustus leads Lexa’s horse to her, and Lexa’s body responds to the routine gesture automatically. She is quiet during the long, dark ride back to Tondc. Lexa’s people know better than to disturb her silence.

 ***

“Clarke! Clarke, wake up!” Raven’s voice is groggy, but urgent.

Clarke is caught between consciousness and dreams of green eyes and soft lips. She wakes with a start, inhaling deeply. For a moment, Clarke thinks she is sleeping off a hangover in Raven’s quarters. Opening her eyes, Clarke winces at the pale light of the rising sun streaming into the sparse room through small windows high above her.

Octavia and Bellamy begin to stir as Clarke sits up in a crude cot, the pounding of her head making her nauseous.

“Where are we, Raven?”

“Some kind of jail cell, I think. The door over there is locked. I can’t tell if there is anyone on the other side.” Raven awkwardly gets to her feet and limps over to Octavia, who is starting to curse in Klingon under her breath.

“Lincoln’s people must have found us,” groans Octavia. “Clarke, what are we supposed to tell them? They all saw the shuttle crash.  It’s not like we can just tell them ‘We come from the North.’”

Clarke knew all the stories. Stories about officers making botched first contact missions with pre-warp civilizations were told to every cadet at the Academy. They were the scary tales told to impressionable young officers about the potentially devastating and lasting effects of premature exposure to advanced technology. The Prime Directive was founded on the principle of non-interference and self-determination, especially for civilizations that had not yet discovered space travel.

“Let’s see what happens before we start to worry, Octavia. Did they take all our gear?” Clarke begins to rummage through her pockets and around her belt. Her phaser and knife were gone, but she still had her medical tricorder and combadge. _Well, at least we will still be able to communicate with the Trigeda, unless…_

“Raven, do you think you can do anything about our combadges. They keep shorting out or something. I don’t want that to happen at the wrong time.”

“Are you implying that my brilliant mechanical skills cannot get us out of this mess?” Raven is pouting playfully at Clarke, as she searches her belt for the bulky hyperspanner that always hung at her side aboard the Ark. Removing the combadge from her tunic, Raven gets lost in the problem before her, working as if no one else is in the room. Clarke smiles at her friend.

“Never,” she whispers fondly as she turns to check on Bellamy.

***

Hours pass. Raven is quietly talking to herself as she works on the combadge, while Clarke, Octavia, and Bellamy discuss their options.

“Lincoln told me his people would want our shuttle.” Octavia huddles in closer to Clarke and Bellamy as she speaks. “He said metal is very precious on this planet and only people of a certain status are allowed to wear it. That’s why he moved us from the crash. He knew they were coming and he tried to hide us.” Octavia tries not to worry about whether Lincoln will be punished for his kind acts towards the away team.

“Clarke, we need to keep the Trigeda away from the shuttle long enough for us to re-establish contact with the Ark.” Bellamy’s voice is steady, but urgent.

“But the question is: what do we have that the Trigeda need? Right now, there is nothing stopping them from simply killing us all and taking what they want. But I have to think that there might be a way we survive this. After all, Lincoln pulled us out of the wreckage and Lexa…” Clarke stops short and swallows. “Well, I did save Lexa’s life. Maybe that will count for something,” Clarke awkwardly mumbles, trying not to think about the fact that she had been ready the night before to let herself drown in the green of Lexa’s eyes.

_Lexa, will I even see you again?_ Clarke thinks wistfully as she replays their every interaction in her mind, from their fight with the _pauna_ to their desperate flight in the forest. Lexa was so convinced she would die from the poison, or worse. _Something about ‘reapers_.’ Clarke tries to piece together Lexa’s feverous ramblings while they were escaping in the tunnels.

“Octavia, did Lincoln ever mention a ‘reaper’ to you?” Clarke turns to Octavia, an idea starting to take shape.

“Yeah, actually, when we were out hunting. He said to watch out because sometimes reaper parties roamed these woods. He was pretty spooked, come to think of it. He said the reapers used to be Trigeda, but they were changed by the bite of a powerful creature called the _pauna_. It makes them crazy, I guess.”

“Alien gorilla,” states Clark wryly. “Lexa was bitten by one but I healed her. Now I know why she kept telling me to leave her.” _And why she seemed so impressed with our healing ability._ Clarke is trying not to think about Lexa’s smile. Then, in a flash, she has the answer. _I need to study the readings in my tricorder before I can be certain._

As Clarke studies the readings in her medical device, Octavia performs slow martial arts exercises in place, and Bellamy rests, still recovering from his concussion.

“Yes!” Raven exclaims suddenly, an hour later. “I have it! Clarke! I fixed it. The problem was a distortion from atmospheric radiation combined with…”

“Raven! All I want to know is whether you can get them to work properly! You know Introduction to Electronic Engineering was the only class I almost failed.”

“OK. OK. Basically, there is a naturally occurring mineral on the planet that is interacting with atmospheric radiation and this is interfering with our electronic devices. I can make some simple alterations to our badges and they should work fine.”

_Simple alterations_. Clarke shook her head and sighed to herself. These “simple alterations” would probably merit enthusiastic study at Starfleet’s most advanced academies. The same academies that were constantly trying to recruit Raven into their folds. Though the youngest Engineer on the Ark, she was the clear candidate for Chief after Jake Griffin’s tragic death. Even Captain Jaha said Raven was the “most logical choice,” despite her age.

“Excellent work, Raven,” says Clarke as she hands Raven her combadge. Raven winks at Clarke before adjusting the badge and handing it back.

Raven finishes with Bellamy and Octavia’s combadges, and returns her hyperspanner to her belt. “Now what, Clarke?”

Before Clarke can answer, the door to their cell opens to a mountainous figure wearing tanned leather and a full beard that coarsely hangs to his chest. His head is shaved on both sides and the hair in the middle is long and braided.

“The Commander will see you now,” growls Gustus, expanding his figure to its full height and girth in an appearance of power.

“You are lucky, Sky People. You will escape with your lives in exchange for your metals. Many in our clan want to kill you, but the Commander has decided that you will be brought to the edge of our territory and banished into the great desert to survive as you will.”

“And if we don’t agree?” Octavia snarls.

“Then the Commander will take this knife and slit all of your throats.” Gustus points a small dagger with a light brown handle at them each in turn.

“Come.” Gustus leads the away team out of their cell and to the village outside. A group of Trigeda guards surround them as they make their way towards a large tent made of heavy animal skins and attended by two guards at the entrance.

“If you so much as look at her in the wrong way, I will slit your throat,” threatens Gustus, looking directly into Clarke’s eyes.

_Her?_ Clarke wonders as she passes through the tent flaps on her way inside. Clarke takes a moment to breathe before she turns her attention to her surroundings. She gasps when she sees the figure inside.

Lexa is sitting before Clarke on a kind of throne made of twisted wood and horns, almost woven together and terminating into sharp points. Her armor is different from when they were in the woods together, more ceremonial. It is made of a thick, black hide and decorated with shiny buckles and an assortment of metal pieces protecting her shoulders and chest.

“You’re the one who invaded my forest from the sky,” states Lexa coldly, leaning back into her throne. Gustus steps forward and hands Lexa the dagger he had earlier used to threaten the officers and she begins to idly play with its point between her fingers and hands.

_Heda_ , Clarke sighs to herself, realization hitting her like a shot of Monty and Jasper’s moonshine.

“Do you have an answer for me, Clarke of the Sky People?” 


	7. Accord

_Earlier that morning..._

Lexa is exhausted and grim by the time her party reaches Tondc, only hours before dawn. Ordering her warriors to lock up the prisoners, the Commander forces herself to turn her back on Clarke’s limp body and return to her quarters for a brief rest before the  council meeting after sunrise. Alone at last, Lexa begins to remove her cloak and armor, taking the clean rag from her wash basin to wash the dirt of the forest off of her face and body.

Gustus enters several minutes later with a plate of dried meats and fresh fruit. Lexa waves him away gruffly as soon as he sets the plate down and returns to her sullen and disturbed mood.

“Heda,” Gustus says as he bows and leaves Lexa to her thoughts.

Lexa knows she should try to eat and sleep for the few precious hours before she has to face her War Council, an informal assembly of various village generals and visiting Clan leaders. Though Lexa bears ultimate authority on all decisions facing the Tree Clan, she must always win the support of her generals or face potential challenge to her rule. It is a delicate balance.

Lexa pounds her fists on the dining table. _What will happen to Clarke?_ She cannot focus on anything but a rush of memories of Clarke. Clarke bravely facing the _pauna_ and refusing to give up on Lexa. Clarke tending to her wounds. Clarke approaching her with that _look_ in her eyes. Lexa feels disoriented and exhilarated at the same time. She tries to sit, but stands again suddenly and grabs her cloak before storming out of her lodge.

The village is quiet and still dark when Lexa marches noiselessly towards the Tondc prison, a one-roomed structure with heavy wooden walls and only one door. As she approaches the guards, they instantly recognize her, awaiting their orders.

“Open it,” commands Lexa quietly.

“Yes, Heda,” one of the guards obediently replies, as he uses a key hanging at his side to unlock the door.

The alien officers are all still unconscious from the sleep darts, lying in cots by the walls. Lexa closes the door behind her after a guard lights the torch at the front of the room.

 _Clarke!_ Lexa sees Clarke’s motionless body in the corner and her self-discipline finally fails her. Lexa hurries to Clarke’s side and crouches down, lightly placing her hands on Clarke’s chest and neck for signs of life. Feeling Clarke take a breath, Lexa exhales in relief, while the heavy feeling in her chest starts to melt like ice. Though the darts were meant to incapacitate, not kill, sometimes warriors died from their effects.

Lexa is furious with herself. She is the Commander. She does not have the luxury to feel such desire, especially not towards this alien who has fallen from the sky. How would her people ever allow these outsiders to live, let alone to stay among them?

 _Would she even stay?_ Lexa stops herself. _No. I must not be weak._ Lexa forces herself to take controlled breaths _. I will save her_ , thinks Lexa as she takes one last look at Clarke, _even though that might be all I can do_. _This fever will fade. It must._

Lexa returns to her quarters and sleeps soundly until Gustus wakes her just after dawn.

***

“We cannot trust these invaders from the sky!” Indra is shouting above the din of voices arguing over the fate of Clarke’s people. Lexa and her Council are standing around a large square stone table that holds a map of the Trigeda territory spread across its whole area. The room is lit by a candle chandelier made of horns above the table and several small torches set in sconces along the walls.

“Kill them!” The shouts are coming from several directions.

“Enough,” Lexa’s voice cuts through the clamor and the room quiets.

“I owe a debt of life to the Sky People. Their lives must be spared in return.” Lexa sets her face in its most intimidating glare before asking, “Unless there is someone here who wishes to challenge the payment of this debt?” Lexa makes eye contact with every warrior in the room as she speaks.

The room is silent for a moment. Lexa knows a debt of life is a very serious matter for the Trigeda. She understood that to interfere with such a debt would only bring shame to the challenger. No one would risk their honor to disagree with Lexa in this matter.

“And what of their metals, Commander?” It is the general, Quint’s, turn to speak. “These Sky People trespassed upon our territory. The metal belongs to us.”

“Yes, Heda,” call many voices in unison.

“Heda, I will not permit intruders among my villagers.” Indra’s face is set as if she dares Lexa to challenge her.

“Banish them,” shouts Quint and several other generals.

Lexa nods coolly in agreement. _If it is the only way, then so be it._ A feeling of cold dread settles on her like a heavy weight. Summoning Gustus from his position at her back to follow, Lexa leaves the Council and returns to her quarters.

***

Lexa spends several hours in her rooms alone before she orders Gustus to bring the prisoners to her throne room. She had done her best to distance herself from the girl Clarke met in the forest. When Gustus arrives, Lexa is wearing her full ceremonial armor and heavy black war paint in a band around her eyes that streaks down her face like a bleeding wound. Lexa had prepared herself for battle. If Clarke and her friends were to be safe, Lexa must not falter. _It is weakness_. Lexa hands Gustus her dagger and sternly takes her place upon the throne.

***

When Clarke and the other officers enter the throne room, Lexa’s face is impassive. Lexa observes each alien’s reaction in turn. Raven, who is leaning on a crutch, recognizes Lexa with wide eyes and sharply turns to look at Clarke. Bellamy outwardly appears amused and relaxed, but Lexa catches him studying the room carefully with his eyes. Octavia, in contrast, makes no effort to conceal the fact that she is openly scanning the warriors in the room and deciding which would be her first battle. Lexa steels herself before she looks directly at Clarke.

“You’re the one who invaded my forest from the sky.” Gustus hands Lexa her dagger and she plays with it menacingly between her hands before standing it on end, resting the point on an arm rest.

 “Do you have answer for me, Clarke of the Sky People?”

Clarke is silent for a moment, desperately trying to absorb the situation in front of her. _Was she playing me the whole time?_

 “I want to make you an offer.” Clarke’s voice is clear, despite the welling apprehension in her chest.

“This is not a negotiation.” Lexa senses the generals around her begin to shift suspiciously around the room.

“Let me kill her and get this over with!” Indra, who had been at Lexa’s side, now steps forward angrily. Lexa silences her with a gesture.

“I can help you cure the Reapers.” Clarke stands her ground.

“Go on,” agrees Lexa sternly.

“Hundreds of your people are infected with the pauna venom. My people can help you. We have advanced healing techniques. I can cure them.” Clarke addresses everyone in the room forcefully, looking each in the eye. When she looks at Lexa, Lexa subdues her emotions and dispassionately meets her gaze.  

“Lies,” spits Indra.

Clarke begins to pull out her tricorder. The warriors around Lexa begin to stir, readying their weapons. Lexa motions them to hold their places. “This is a device that can tell me what is wrong with a person, why they are sick. I can study the reapers and create a medicine to fight against the poison.”

Clarke had considered her plan carefully. She knows she is “technically” breaking the Prime Directive by using her advanced technology to alter the Trigeda’s natural course of development. _But_ , she reasoned to herself earlier, _they already have a highly advanced system of botanical pharmacology. If I can find the cure from their own forest, the impact will be less than if they salvage the technology from our shuttle._ Clarke has always been a master at testing the boundaries of all rules.

“More lies,” accuses Indra, “No one escapes the venom.” Several generals grunt in assent at Indra’s words.

“Quiet, Indra,” commands Lexa, eyes still on Clarke. Lexa considers Clarke’s proposition carefully.

“I can cure the reapers,” says Clarke emphatically.

“Those who are about to die will say anything,” accuses Indra.

“I’m still waiting for an offer, Clarke,” Lexa says severely as she struggles not to melt under Clarke’s gaze.

“The _pauna_ turn your men into reapers. I can turn them back. In exchange, you agree not to salvage our metal.” Clarke is using her best poker face, willing her knees not to buckle out from under her. When the lives of her friends were at stake, Clarke would stop at nothing to save them.

“Impossible. Commander, I beg you let me kill her.” Indra’s body is tense as she leans forward, ready to fight.

“I’ve done it already, with the Commander. She was bitten and I healed her.” Clarke stares at Lexa, daring her to contradict.

Lexa stands and slowly approaches Clarke. She does not stop until she is so close Clarke can almost feel her breath. Lexa needs to test her strength.

“You say you can turn reapers back into men?” Lexa channels her turbulent emotions into anger as she stares ferociously at Clarke.

“Yes,” states Clarke, nodding confidently. Clarke is too stubborn to let Lexa get to her.

“Then prove it. Show me your cure.” Indra and the other generals look at Lexa in disbelief.

“Commander, making the medicine will take time. I will need to study a Trigeda who has been infected.”

The murmuring among the Trigeda causes Lexa to turn and address her people. “How many warriors you lost to the _pauna,_ Indra? Quint? How many still have we lost to the reapers our warriors have become?” Lexa faces her Council. Every member had lost someone to the _pauna_ and the war with the reapers.  “The reapers are our greatest threat. The Sky People say they can cure the reapers. I have seen their power. I was bitten by the _pauna_ , but I did not become a reaper. The Sky People healed me from the bite.”

The Trigeda are stunned by Lexa’s words.

Seeing her opening, Lexa returns to her throne. Picking up the scepter from its holder, she slams it once on the ground, before making her proclamation to the entire room. “The Sky people have six days to prove whether they can cure the reapers. If they fail, they forfeit their lives.” Lexa had no intention of letting anything happen to Clarke, but she had to appease her people if she wanted to buy Clarke more time.

The Trigeda nod in agreement towards Lexa, satisfied by the terms.

Clarke considers the situation. The Ark would know they were missing by tomorrow. Clarke had faith she could cure the reaper poison, but even if she couldn’t in six days, she knew the Ark would not let them down.

“Commander, I accept your terms.”

“It is decided.” Lexa summons Gustus and the guards to take the aliens back to their cells.

“Hold on,” growls Octavia suddenly, facing Lexa and her generals. “Where’s my _bat’leth_?”

Quint sneers at Octavia. “If you mean the weapon we took from you,” he says as he walks to a table by the wall, “I have claimed it as a prize of war.” Quint picks up the _bat’leth_ and strokes it reverently before showing it to Octavia.

Octavia looks at Quint with scorn and spits. “You can have it if you take it from me. Otherwise you dishonor yourself by cowardly stealing the weapon of a sleeping foe. I did not know your people were such cowards, Lexa.”

“What do you say, girl?” Quint is furious at Octavia’s challenge.

“You heard me.” Octavia never backs down.

“I accept your challenge,” shouts Quint, throwing the _bat’leth_ towards Octavia and drawing his sword, as everyone else in the room moves away from the center.

“Octavia,” says Clarke sternly and emphasizing each word, “do not kill him.”

“Aye, sir,” answers Octavia, her eyes never leaving Quint. She picks up her weapon carefully, watching for Quint’s attack, and straps the blade to her back.

“Fool,” scoffs Quint, as he slashes his sword at Octavia’s throat. Octavia ducks under his reach and springs herself forward into his torso, knocking him off balance. Once he is down, she disarms him by slamming his hand against the ground. After punching Quint in the face with her elbow, Octavia positions her knee against Quint’s throat and holds his arms in a lock.

“Enough.” Lexa stands up, still holding the scepter. “Octavia, if your people fulfill the bargain, you may keep your weapon. For now, return it to the guard.” Lexa’s tone leaves no room for argument.

Lexa leaves before the guards take the prisoners back to their cell.


	8. Bite

“You sure know how to pick them, Princess,” laughs Bellamy as the away team returns to their cell in Tondc. “I mean, talk about aiming high.” Although outwardly relaxed, Bellamy is internally going over every detail of his interactions with Lexa from a tactical standpoint, analyzing how much information she would have observed about them and their technology during her brief stay at Lincoln’s camp. 

Clarke, however, is frowning, and so deep in thought that she almost doesn’t hear Bellamy. She is definitely _not_ thinking about strategy, still reeling from the sight of Lexa on her throne, cold and imposing. _The Commander_. _Heda_. Clarke’s memory flashes to Lexa, green eyes relaxed and her smile lighting up the forest. It was almost as if Lexa were two different people. _Was it all an act back at the camp, calculated to gain my trust?_

“Huh?” Clarke turns to face the other officers, banishing Lexa’s eyes from her mind and trying very hard not to feel like a fool. _I was just vulnerable from Wells’ death_ , Clarke rationalizes. _Lexa took advantage of my weakness_. Suddenly Clarke’s mind turns to the moments after she slid the knife into Wells’ throat and Lexa’s quiet presence, holding her up. The flush of Clarke’s face turns into fiery crimson. Clarke did not like feeling used.

“What now, Clarke,” interrupts Raven as she elbows Bellamy in the ribs. If Raven only suspected before, now she knew. The look on Clarke’s face said everything. _Well, this will be interesting_ , Raven thinks grimly.

“Raven.” Clarke’s jaw sets into hot steely determination as she turns to her friend. “Can you fix the tricorders to work more reliably like the combadges?”

“I don’t see why not,” replies Raven, relieved for once to see Clarke angry.

“Good. I will need my medical tricorder to work if I’m going to find a cure for their problem.” Clarke begins to pace slowly as she speaks. “We also need to find a way to communicate with the Ark when they come into range of the planet tomorrow.”

“We need to warn them about the gravimetric distortion,” adds Octavia. “This planet didn’t even come up on sensors until it was too late.”

“OK, Raven, you know what you need to do. Octavia, Bellamy, start working on our Plan B. Figure out a way to escape, in case we need to rendezvous with another team from the Ark. We will need to map out this area and figure out where we are in relation to the crash.” Clarke is all business.

“That’s a good idea. We may need to use parts from what’s left of the _Van Gogh_ to boost a transporter signal through the distortion,” states Raven matter-of-factly.

“One thing at a time, Raven,” responds Clarke. “First, we need to be able to communicate. And I need those tricorders to work.”

As the other officers set to their tasks, Clarke continues to pace the room lost in her own thoughts.

*** 

An hour later, the door to their cell opens and Gustus takes a few steps into the room. Clarke is studying readings from her repaired medical tricorder before she looks up to see Gustus’ towering figure.

In an attitude Clarke would almost call polite, Gustus gruffly bows his head as he addresses the captive away team. “I am here as your aide and your guard. You may call me Gustus. Clarke,” he states as he faces her, “I am to assist you in your work to cure the reaper madness. Come with me.” Gustus gestures his right arm towards the door. Clarke silently nods towards the away team before she exits the cell.

Gustus leads Clarke through a familiar path, towards the hide tent of Lexa’s throne room. Clarke takes a moment to absorb her surrounding more clearly. Unlike the permanent stone and wooden structures making up the bulk of the village, there were two spacious tents set up in the center, a smaller one that Clarke knew held Lexa’s throne and a larger one to the left. Gustus leads Clarke to this second tent, opening its flap and securing the opening with rope. Clarke notices that partitions had been set up around a medium sized table in the front corner, which holds various glass and ceramic containers and vials of biological samples similar to those Lincoln used to hold his medicines. Placed carefully in the center of the table are Clarke’s leather sketchpad and some pens.

Without a word, Clarke sits on the wooden bench next to the table, opens her pad to a blank page and begins to scan the vials with her tricorder, making notes as she examines each one.

“Is there anything else you require, Clarke,” asks Gustus as Clarke settles into her work.

“It’s Lieutenant Griffin,” answers Clarke concisely, deciding that it would be best to not be on a first name basis with anymore locals. She must think about getting back to the Ark, not making new friends.

“Is there anything else you require, Lieutenant Griffin,” asks Gustus without a trace of sarcasm. Gustus has his orders.

“Yes,” replies Clarke in a somewhat softer tone. “I need to speak to Octavia. And bring me Lincoln.” She might as well test the boundaries of Gustus’ service.

Gustus calls another warrior to the tent, giving him his orders. After a few minutes Lincoln enters, trying to hide his fearful expression when he sees Gustus and then Clarke.

“Lincoln,” Clarke says warmly, relieved to see a familiar face. “Thank you for coming.”

Lincoln greets Clarke and his apprehension begins to subside as Octavia is led into the room.

“Good,” states Clarke when she sees Octavia. “I need you two to do something for me,” she continues, looking between them when she speaks. “I have analyzed the compounds in the Trigeda medicines and my own readings from yesterday. Octavia, I have programed this tricorder to detect the compounds I am still missing in order to recreate the anti-venom.” Clarke hands Octavia the programed tricorder as she continues, “I want you to take Lincoln with you into the forest to find the missing compounds. I know they exist on the planet. My tricorder has already recorded them from previous scans.”

Clarke looks at Gustus next. “Is this acceptable?”

Gustus considers the request in light of his orders. “Yes, as long as Lincoln is escorting your Comrade, she may leave the village. But know this,” says Gustus with an edge of menace as he turns directly to Octavia, “if you both are not back by dusk, we will kill your brother Bellamy as punishment.”

“Understood,” nods Octavia grimly, holding her temper in check. “Where’s my _bat’leth_?” She looks at Gustus with deadly seriousness.

Gustus nearly laughs aloud at her tenacity as he leaves to retrieve the weapon from the neighboring tent. He could certainly understand her attachment to such a powerful blade. There were already stories about it whispered among the young warriors in the village. The fact that Octavia had strapped it to her back in her fight with an armed Quint had started many tall tales about the warrior from the sky.

Once their supplies are readied, Lincoln and Octavia leave Tondc on their mission. Clarke, who had earlier loaded Octavia’s sack with rations and simple containers to hold samples, had also secretly added Lincoln’s map, hoping Octavia would be able to complete it with their current location and the crash site.

Clarke spends the next several hours cataloguing and processing the Trigeda medicines that had been provided. Fortunately for Clarke, Raven had redesigned Clarke’s medical tricorders years earlier, adding a processing compartment with a small centrifuge. She was only able to use it for small samples, but it would be a start and it would allow her to create the concentrated samples she would need.

Gustus leaves the tent as Clarke begins her work, taking his place just outside.

***

By late-afternoon, Lexa is ready to leave her quarreling generals and retire back to her quarters for a quiet rest. She had tried all day to keep Clarke from her thoughts and now she must face the woman she spent the day avoiding. As she approaches her quarters, she takes a moment to greet Gustus and dismiss him to fetch her some food.

Lexa’s throat is suddenly dry as she stands in the opening of the tent. Clarke is drawing the petals of a flower in her book and scribbling notes and strange symbols next to it. She is so intent on her work that she has not yet noticed Lexa’s presence.

Lexa stares at Clarke’s profile, her eyes following the smooth and fair skin of Clarke’s neck and shoulders. Clarke had shed her red uniform jacket and was wearing a white tank top, her Starfleet insignia pinned and hanging loosely over her right breast. Lexa swallows with longing. When Clarke begins to softly mumble and gesture to herself, Lexa loses control for a brief moment as a small smile creeps across her face.

It is that moment that Clarke finally detects Lexa’s presence in her periphery. When she notices Lexa’s amused expression, her face flushes into a deep pink. “Are you mocking me?” Clarke asks, trying to control the lurching in her heart at Lexa’s eyes on her so she can regain her balance. Clarke clings to anger like a life raft.

“Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, Clarke,” answers Lexa with a hint of sarcasm and a wry smile on her lips. Lexa’s mind flashes to her carefree youth as she recites the words of her mentor, Anya. She starts to feel the walls surrounding her heart melt away in Clarke’s presence.

Clarke suddenly can’t remember why she is angry.

Before Lexa can stop herself, their eyes lock. Clarke’s gaze is probing dangerously into Lexa’s defenses. Realizing that she is on the brink of completely losing her self-control, Lexa tenses her muscles as she forces to compose herself, grinding her smile into her usual stony façade. The transformation is instantaneous, catching Clarke off-guard.

“I apologize. I did not mean to disturb you,” says Lexa curtly while she masters her self-control and enters the tent. “I will not keep you,” she states coolly as she nods at Clarke and heads towards the far end of the room, behind the partitioned screens.

“I don’t understand,” replies Clarke, still processing Lexa’s effect on her. “If you aren’t here to disturb me, then why are you here?”

“These are my quarters, Clarke,” Lexa answers, letting her words sink in. “Indra will not allow you in her village, but this shelter is my domain.” Lexa’s tone is crisp and her head is slightly turned away from Clarke. “I travel with these quarters when I leave Polis. I thought this would be a more comfortable place for you to work than the cell.” Lexa’s expression is emotionless, but her eyes are earnest as she turns to face Clarke. Clarke now realizes it was Lexa who had so thoughtfully laid out the primitive, but functional laboratory.

Before Clarke can respond, her attention is diverted to shouting and commotion outside.

“Clarke! Clarke!” Octavia’s voice is urgent in the distance and she sounds winded. Clarke and Lexa face each other briefly as each recognizes an emergency unfolding. Lexa rushes out of the tent towards the sound, Clarke following closely behind.

Lexa pulls ahead as she notices the standoff in the distance. “Halt,” she commands as she approaches Indra and about a dozen warriors pointing spears and bows at Octavia, who is supporting Lincoln under her arm and dragging him into the village center. Strapped to her back are her _bat’leth_ and a bloodied burlap sack.

As Clarke approaches the scene, Indra spins in her direction and points the tip of her sword into Clarke’s torso, piercing her skin. Clarke meets Indra’s gaze, refusing to flinch.

“Let her pass,” commands Lexa as she instructs a warrior to help Lincoln to the ground.

“What happened,” Clarke asks as she scans Lincoln’s wounds.

“I followed the signals like you told us to and it led us directly to one of those creatures, the _pauna_. It jumped out at us from the bushes.” Octavia is breathing heavily as she speaks. “Lincoln tried to fight it off, but it bit him and threw him into a tree before I defeated it.”

The Trigeda surrounding them begin to murmur and steadily create space between them and Lincoln’s injured body.

“You could not have defeated the _pauna_ by yourself,” laughs Quint with scorn. “The beast is too powerful.”

Ignoring the Trigeda general, Octavia empties the contents of her sack. “I got your ingredients,” she says looking at Clarke. “Can you help him?” The head of the _pauna_ rolls out from the sack alongside a bright green moss they had also gathered. The Trigeda gasp at the sight.

“Gustus,” Clarke calls urgently, “please, get the vials I left near my notebook, along with my medkit.” Clarke immediately sets to work scanning the _pauna_. “I need a knife,” she states as she turns to Lexa. Lexa nods and hands her the hunting knife from her ankle. Clarke carefully makes an incision inside the creature’s mouth and gently pulls out its venom sac. Lincoln starts to convulse and the Trigeda have their weapons ready, directing their aim at him rather than Clarke and Octavia.

When Gustus returns with Clarke’s vials, she does rough calculations on dosage and mixes in the new compounds, knowing from experience that getting the proportions right almost never happens on the first try. _Here goes_ , she thinks as she loads the experimental treatment into her hypospray and administering it to Lincoln’s throat. While he continues to convulse, Clarke scans his vitals and the effects of the anti-venom with her tricorder.

“It’s working,” Clarke exclaims as Lincoln begins to settle. “Damn,” she says as her tricorder begins to beep ominously and Lincoln’s breathing becomes shallow. “We’re losing him, O.” Clarke scans for Lincoln’s heart and begins basic compressions as his breathing stops.

“You see,” shouts Indra to the crowd. “They are nothing but liars! They have no cure! Kill them!” The Trigeda warriors become restless and angry at Indra’s words. Lexa takes a defensive position near Clarke, staring at Indra directly in the eye. Everyone is holding their weapons ready, including Octavia.

Thinking quickly, Clarke sets her tricorder to emit an electrical pulse, using a trick she learned during one of Abby’s survival training classes. “Octavia, clear!” Octavia backs away from Lincoln as Clarke jams the end of her tricorder into Lincoln’s heart and sets off a short burst of electricity. Lincoln’s body jolts, but his vitals do not return.

“Again,” yells Octavia.

“Clear,” Clarke repeats, as she gives Lincoln another jolt. Lincoln takes a violent breath before sitting up and passing out again. Clarke and Octavia look at each other, exhaling deeply at the same time. “The poison is gone,” Clarke says with relief as she runs her scanner across his body.

Clarke next begins to heal the bloody gashes on Lincoln’s face and torso with the dermal regenerator from her kit as the Trigeda stand silently in awe at what they had all just witnessed. Even Indra’s glare looked slightly less threatening when she stares at the alien officers.

When Clarke finishes her work, Lexa instructs two warriors to carry Lincoln to the infirmary and disperses the crowd back to their duty.

“We will talk later,” she says to Clarke as she heads to the war room. She needed to take control of the new situation. “You did well,” she states, as she turns back to look at Clarke, a smile on her lips.

Clarke’s knees are trembling as Gustus leads her and Octavia back to their cell. She isn’t sure whether it’s from the adrenalin from saving Lincoln or Lexa’s sweet smile. _Shit,_ she thinks as she returns to her friends to debrief them of the situation. _This is going to be trouble_.


	9. Threshold

_USS Ark_

The cellblock is raucous with the sound of shuffling combat boots and the rowdy criminal teenagers, who are being led roughly in single lines from their cells by stern guards wearing full combat gear and carrying electric batons. The prison on the space station Unity bustles with unusual activity as each prisoner is ordered from his or her cell.

“Prisoner 319, face the wall.” The guards are ordering individual inmates to spread their arms up and fitting them with metal bracelets that have long sharp needles on the interior that bite into their wrists once the bracelets are fastened.

An eager, boyish voice narrates in the background: “ _It’s been 97 years since a nuclear apocalypse killed everyone on Earth, leaving the planet simmering in radiation. Fortunately, there were survivors. Twelve nations had operational space stations at the time of the bombs. There is now only the Unity. One station forged from many. But the ground. That’s the dream._ ”

“For fuck’s sake, Jasper. Do you have to do the intro every single time?” Monty whispers with exasperation as he and Jasper are led in line by armored guards through the prison walkways.

“I like it,” states Jasper simply as he grins widely. “It sets the mood.” Ensign Jasper Jordon, science officer and botanist on the Ark, has a wiry build and a pale complexion, even for a human. He is wearing the dark blue heavy denim jacket, matching pants, and black combat boots of the prisoners, as well as a pair of old-fashioned aviator’s goggles over his short curly brown locks.

“Quiet, prisoners,” orders a guard gruffly as she loads them onto a rickety dropship, fastening them side-by-side against the interior wall of the ship with red canvas straps.

The guards finish loading the prisoners on the ship and close the hatch doors. The cacophony of questions from the teens is drown out by the ship’s engines as they fire up, as the clunky and ancient ship launches from the space station. The screens placed around the ship turn on and the Chancellor, a middle-aged, African-American human male, appears:

“Prisoners of the Unity, hear me now. You’ve been given a second chance. We are sending you to the ground. We have no idea what is waiting for you down there. Frankly, we have sent you because your crimes have made you expendable. If, however, you do survive, then those crimes will be forgiven. Your mission is to reach the supplies on Mount Weather. You have one responsibility: Stay alive.”

The ship hurtles to Earth, while Monty and Jasper giggle enthusiastically to each other as their hands meet in a high-five. When the ship’s parachutes engage, the prisoners on the dropship are jostled in their seats and the ship lands roughly on radioactive Earth.

Jasper and Monty eagerly unbuckle their straps and head to the ship’s main hatch. Pushing through the other prisoners, Monty pulls the airlock’s lever and bemusedly nods at Jasper. “It’s your turn, Dude,” he says as the hatch opens and the ship quiets into hushed whispers.

Jasper grins widely at Monty and jumps off the hatch ramp, the first delinquent to exit the dropship into the radioactive forest on Earth.

“We’re back, Bitches!” Jasper yells as he holds his legs should-width apart, raising his arms vertically with triumph as he screams the familiar lines. The sound of cheers and howls answers Jasper’s enthusiastic declaration.

“Dude,” Monty laughs fondly at his friend. Monty leans his thin frame against the ship and observes quietly as the rest of the passengers chaotically disembark behind Jasper. Ensign Green is a bridge officer stationed at Ops and a skilled holographic engineer. His human Korean features are slightly creased with laugh lines around his eyes and cheeks as he watches the scene unfold.

“Listen, everyone,” Jasper tries to yell above the din of newly-released juvenile delinquents, but he is largely ignored by the unruly crowd. “We need to get to Mount Weather!” The sounds of chaotic celebration mostly drown out his words.

“Who put you in charge?” A surly teenage male two feet taller than Jasper approaches and stares down at him. Others join the would-be alpha to back him up. “The way I see it, the Unity just threw us away to die, so now, we can do whatever the hell we want” The rest of the crowd nods and grunts in agreement, repeating “whatever the hell we want” almost in a chant.

“Who’s hungry? I’m hungry,” Jaspers responds, slowly easing his way backward. “Monty, how about a nice stroll in the woods to go find Mount Weather?” Monty nods watching Jasper and trying not to burst out in laughter. “How’s this?” Jasper continues, “We go for a hike to find this Mountain and bring the food back.”

In the end, several of the other delinquents follow Jasper and Monty to the mountain, including a very attractive brunette woman who keeps making flirty eyes in Jasper’s direction.

“Dude, did you program her to flirt with me?” Jasper asks as he waves at the brunette as nonchalantly as he can muster.

“I added her last night,” Monty answers, “You’ve seemed lonely lately so I thought you could use a boost.” Monty looks at his friend tenderly.

“You’re the best, man.” Jasper returns the look with puppy affection before jogging to catch up with the young woman.

The party makes its way through the dense woods, and approaches a wide turbulent river. On the other side of the river is a rusted sign bearing the words: “Mount Weather.”

“Why don’t we use this vine to get across,” suggests a delinquent.

“It’s your turn, Monty. I got speared last time.” Jasper shudders thinking about the last time they played this program and he crossed this river.

“Fine,” sighs Monty with exasperation. “But don’t take your time cutting me down this time.” Monty directs a scolding look at his friend and heads to the bank of the river towards the delinquent holding the vine. As he takes the vine, the Ark’s intercom suddenly interrupts: “Ensign Green. Report immediately to the bridge.” Monty breaths softly to himself with relief.

“Sorry Jasper,” moans Monty with fake disappointment, “End program.” At Monty’s command the area around them transforms from a lush forest to a black room gridded with yellow lines. “We’re going to have to finish the post-apocalypse holoprogram tomorrow.” The doors of the holodeck open.

“And I was looking forward to the fight with the Mountain Men,” whines Jasper. “Well, I guess I’ll go back to hydroponics and check on our special plants.” Jasper, who is in charge of maintaining the hydroponics bay on the Ark, had more than just Clarke’s research growing there. Jasper was an expert in old Earth brewing and distillation, as well as psychoactive plants. Jasper used his private garden and distillation projects as trade to other crewmembers for their holodeck privileges.

Monty leaves Jasper and heads directly to the bridge. When Commander Kane sees Monty’s outfit, he gives the young Ensign an indulgent, fatherly look.

“I take it you and Ensign Jordan were in the holodeck just now?” Kane is clearly being rhetorical. Marcus Kane, a middle-aged Betazoid, is well aware of Monty and Jasper’s illicit activities, as neither were particularly good at hiding their thoughts from the telepath. He put up with it because their black market trade seemed to boost crew morale, with minimal interruption to crew duty.

The USS Ark had approached the asteroid field the away team was sent to explore, waiting for the rendezvous time. When Kane ordered Ensign Miller to conduct long range scans for the shuttle, they discovered gravimetric anomalies interfering with their sensors throughout the field.

“Ensign Green,” explains Kane, “we are having difficulty with our sensors in this field. Do you think you can clean it up?”

“I’ll see what I can do, Sir,” replies Monty, already seated at his station and absorbed in his task.

Commander Kane is getting an uneasy feeling at the edge of the asteroid field. _There is no reason to worry yet,_ he thinks to himself. _The away team isn’t due back for another ten hours._ Still, Kane cannot ignore the nagging sense that something is amiss.

***

_Trigeda homeworld_

Gustus leads Clarke and Octavia back to their cell, reuniting them with Bellamy and Raven. Raven looks up from tinkering with a tricorder when they enter. Bellamy appears visibly relieved at the sight of his sister, who is covered in blood but relatively unharmed.

“Summon the guard should you require my services,” says Gustus as he exits the cell with a small bow, after relieving Octavia of her _bat’leth_ and Clarke of her knife.

Clarke and Octavia debrief the others on the recent events, Octavia going into animated detail about her fight with the _pauna_. When Clarke recounts her efforts to save Lincoln, Bellamy suddenly interrupts:

“You did what?” Bellamy is looking at Clarke with outright disapproval. Bellamy had a reputation as an officer who is loose with the rules, but he is very serious about the Prime Directive.

“I used my tricorder to create an electrical charge to restart Lincoln’s heart,” Clarkes repeats matter-of-factly. Clarke returns Bellamy’s look with her own defiant glare. “I wasn’t going to let him die, Bell!” Bellamy rolls his eyes dramatically at Clarke, knowing full well Abby would probably have done the same thing. _Doctors_ , thinks Bellamy with annoyance.

“Clarke, we are supposed to limit their exposure to our technology, not show it off with miraculous displays of our healing power!” The muscles in Bellamy’s face tighten as he grinds his teeth, fully out of patience.

“Lay off her, Bell,” interrupts Octavia, putting herself between Clarke and her brother. “If Clarke didn’t save Lincoln, we could all be dead right now. Those Trigeda looked like they were going to spear us right there when Lincoln’s heart stopped.” Octavia shudders at the memory of looking down on Lincoln’s still body. Their time together in the woods had left an impression on Octavia, whose Klingon blood was difficult to please.

“I’ve got to admit, Clarke,” says Octavia as she turns to her friend, ready to change the subject. “Lexa really had our back out there.” Octavia describes Lexa’s defense of Clarke, Octavia, and Lincoln against her own people.

“The Commander is full of surprises,” answers Clarke introspectively. Clarke shakes Lexa’s image from her mind to deal with the task at hand.

“If the Commander is an ally, we can use that to our advantage,” deliberates Bellamy. “Tell me Princess, what exactly is the nature of our advantage?” Bellamy is smirking slightly as he asks, the argument already forgotten.

Before Clarke can answer, the door to their cell opens and Gustus enters, followed by two Trigeda villagers. Each is holding a pile of clothing. Gustus orders them to place their piles of leggings and heavy tunics on the closest cot to the door. The pants are all made of dark tanned leather and heavy cloth, simple but sturdy. The jackets are similarly crafted, but lined with grey fur around the edges. Each jacket has a colored band across the left upper arm, two are red and one is yellow, matching the away team’s uniforms.

“Lieutenant Griffin,” Gustus invites Clarke to come forward. “These are for you.” Gustus hands Clarke a black leather jacket, reinforced with a metal shoulder pad on the right side and small scraps of metal sewn into the front in rows protecting the ribs and a matching pair of pants. Around the left arm of the jacket is a blue band, almost the color of Clarke’s tattered uniform jacket.

“I guess now we know the nature of our advantage,” grins Bellamy sardonically as he eyes Clarke’s superior wardrobe and begins to change into the new clothes, a little jealous that it was Clarke that had caught Lexa’s eye.

“Bellamy,” protests Clarke weakly, accepting the clothes from Gustus. “This is a hierarchical society,” she says as she slips inside the combat jacket. “Lexa thinks I’m in charge, so she is just showing respect to my rank. That’s all.” Clarke rationalizes the gesture, pausing as she feels the velvet-soft inner lining of the jacket brush against her bare skin. Clarke wraps herself in the silky inner touch of the rugged jacket, getting dizzy imagining Lexa’s fingers trace delicately along her arms. The soft tickle of the fur lining on her neck gives her goosebumps. 

Raven is looking at Clarke incredulously as Clarke continues to deny her obvious attraction to the alien leader. _Is she kidding me?_ Raven resists throwing her crutch at Clarke’s head.

“How’s Lincoln?” Clarke asks Gustus, recovering herself. “I would like to keep an eye on his progress and take some readings for my research. I should also discuss my findings with the Commander.” Clarke avoids Raven’s knowing eyes with a passion.

“Lincoln is resting. Our healers are watching him. You may see him in a few hours. The Commander is with her Council planning the raid on a reaper camp. You and your people will join us as we capture as many as we can for your cure. You must ready yourself for battle.” Gustus stares at the away team impassively after he speaks.

“What about weapons?” Bellamy looks directly into Gustus’ eyes as he speaks. “We will need them to fight the reapers. And before you protest, Princess,” Bellamy turns to Clarke, “I am not staying behind on this one.” Clarke returns Bellamy’s gaze and runs her tricorder over his wounds.

“Fine,” Clarke sighs, “but I think you should stay behind, Raven,” she looks at her friend with concern. “Besides, you have your own job to do. We need to be able to communicate with the Ark.”

Raven nods, “OK, but if you want the phasers to work, you better bring them to me. Or is that too much exposure to our technology?” Raven looks at Bellamy with mocked defiance.

“The Commander already saw me use my phaser, so we might as well use them on the reapers. We can do less damage with stun than if we use Octavia’s _bat’leth_.” Clarke uses her reasonable voice with Bellamy, since arguing with him is always counter-productive.

“Fine,” answers Bellamy with exasperation as he turns to Gustus, “as long as that is agreeable to the Commander.” Bellamy levels his stubborn expression at Gustus, who meets his gaze steadily.

“Raven may follow me,” states Gustus, “she may use Lieutenant Griffin’s work station in the Commander’s tent to make her repairs. Just remember, we have your friends.” Gustus looks at Raven seriously. “Do not try anything,” he commands, emphasizing each word.

“Raven,” says Clarke with authority, “your orders are to fix the phasers only.” Clarke winks subtly at Raven to acknowledge that Clarke does not technically have the authority to give Raven orders, but that they should play along. Raven nods.

“Yes, Sir,” answers Raven somberly as she limps towards Gustus, leaning on her crude crutches.

After Gustus leaves with Raven, Clarke approaches Octavia. “By the way, O, were you able to get Lincoln to complete our map?”

“Sure,” answers Octavia, pulling the piece of Clarke’s notebook from its hidden place in her boot. “Lincoln was very helpful.” Octavia spread the map open on the floor as Clarke and Bellamy join her to review the surrounding terrain and location of their crashed shuttle.

“Good,” states Bellamy. “Now we can figure out how to help Raven get the materials she needs from the shuttle to figure out communications with the Ark.” They speak in hushed whispers as they formulate a plan to sneak Bellamy out of their host’s custody to find the shuttle.

A couple of hours later, Raven returns to the cell, with Gustus in tow. Raven has a satisfied look on her face as she hobbles into the cell.

“The phasers will work now without shorting out randomly. I also intensified the stun beam just in case these reapers are tougher than we think, Sir,” Raven reports as she winks at Clarke.

“Excellent work, as always, Raven. Gustus, I’d like to talk to your Commander,” says Clarke as she looks up at the Trigeda warrior.

“The Commander is with her War Council preparing for the raid. She will summon you when you are needed,” Gustus answers plainly.

“No,” Clarke states with stubborn authority. “Take me to the Commander. I have important matters to discuss with her about this raid.”

Gustus sighs and nods as he gestures for Clarke to follow him. “The rest of you, “he says, turning to the others, “be prepared to leave for battle at dusk.”


End file.
